


just say you won’t let go

by ryneisaterriblefan



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxious Katsuki Yuuri, Domestic Fluff, Established Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Happy, M/M, No Angst, POV Katsuki Yuuri, Playlist, Slice of Life, Supportive Victor Nikiforov, Victor Nikiforov is Extra, Victor with a K, pillow forts, songfic sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-12 17:04:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15999572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryneisaterriblefan/pseuds/ryneisaterriblefan
Summary: Yuuri grows used to the smell of burnt pancakes in the morning.





	just say you won’t let go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [childofhebe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/childofhebe/gifts).



> Idk I feel like this isn’t really good haha *winces* but I tried my best and I hope you enjoy!! :)

Yuuri doesn’t really expect his day to start off with burnt pancakes, but hey, there’s a first time for everything.

‘Yuuuuuuuri,’ there’s a long, drawn-out whine from downstairs, and Yuuri almost trips and falls face first onto the floor in his haste to grab his glasses and rush downstairs.

The sight that greets him is far better than the chaos he’s been expecting.

Viktor, in an apron, is standing in front of the stove, but other than the smell of smoke in the air, there are seemingly no other casualties.

‘Look!’ he exclaims, suddenly lifting up the pan and waving it around, finally showing it to Yuuri—yeah, the pan’s definitely a causality of Viktor’s attempt at cooking.

‘Viktor,’ Yuuri says, voice coming out scratchy and rough from his sleep, ‘What are you doing?’

Viktor pouts—which should be impossible for a grown man, honestly—and says, ‘I tried to make pancakes for you! But I left the stove on for too long, and then it was burnt!’

Yuuri looks at their trash can, in which there are pieces of very sad-looking pancakes.

‘Vitya,’ Yuuri says, hand coming up to rub his eyes, ‘I told you not to make anything without me.’

‘But Yuuri!’ Viktor says in an overly exaggerated frown, walking over, ‘I wanted to do something nice for you!’

Yuuri yawns, though the smile creeping onto his face isn’t deterred, and says, ‘You’re the nicest thing for me, Vitya.’ The words come out half-jumbled and Yuuri isn’t sure what he even means by it; it’s a result of him waking up way earlier than he usually does, but Viktor lights up anyways, the huge heart-shaped smile Yuuri’s grown so used to—but still blinds him every time—appearing on his face.

‘Yuuri! That was so nice!’ he gushes, and Yuuri yawns again.

‘I’ll make us both a proper breakfast later, okay?’ Yuuri says, mid-yawn, ‘Let’s go back to sleep now.’

And then Viktor smiles, that huge adoring smile that he does when Yuuri says something particularly “cute”—not that Yuuri thinks so—and leans down the tiniest bit to kiss Yuuri’s forehead.

He swoops down, taking Yuuri in his arms and Yuuri’s asleep again before he hits the mattress.

 

When Yuuri wakes up later—and in a much better mood—Viktor is still there, curled up around him and snoring softly. Viktor’s never accepted that fact, even though Yuuri’s told him on several occasions that he does.

Yuuri’s arms are folded to his chest—something Viktor’s always teased him about, saying that he’s like a cute turtle—and Viktor’s legs are tangled with his own.

There’s a warm weight on Yuuri’s back—it’s probably Makkachin—Viktor had once joked that animals liked Yuuri better than himself because he was so warm—and Yuuri smiles, content to stay like this forever.

He opens his eyes, blinking in the sudden rapid light, and then his eyes travel to Viktor’s face.

Of course, Viktor Nikiforov is well-known for his looks, charming personality, great figure skating routines and skills, and many gold medal awards.

Vitya is not known for any of those.

He’s known for his wide smiles, a personality that’s too brash and confident at worst, awkwardly adorable and funny and a million other things at best. The way his eyes seem to sparkle after a particularly difficult program, the way he just falls asleep on Yuuri after watching two hours of movies, not matter how interesting he thinks the movie is.

And maybe’s Yuuri’s kind of selfish too, because he doesn’t ever want the world to witness what he has.

He doesn’t know how long he stays there, eyes trained on Viktor’s face in open adoration, but when Viktor’s eyes slowly start to open, Yuuri smiles and snuggles closer to Viktor’s chest. He’s wearing an old sweater, one that’s been used and washed so many times because Yuuri loved the fabric and liked hugging Viktor in it.

‘Yura,’ Viktor says softly, ‘Morning.’

Yuuri draws back a little and smiles, reaching up and pressing a small kiss to the corner of Viktor’s lips.

‘Morning to you too,’ Yuuri says, half-mumbling since he doesn’t want bad breath all over the place.

Viktor smiles, and then rolls over, motioning for Yuuri to go first. He rolls his eyes, for someone who loved waking up early, Viktor sure loved his sleep.

Yuuri trudges to the bathroom, taking care to not knock into the rail for holding towels—he’s complained about that on several events, all ending with Viktor teasing him that he just needs it the same eye-level as him and Yuuri not talking to him for an hour.

It’s not much, but Yuuri tries to hold out.

While brushing his teeth with sleepy, half-open eyes, Yuuri jumps when two arms circle around his waist and a head lands on his shoulder.

‘Riya,’ he garbles out, and Viktor hides a small laugh in Yuuri’s shoulder.

He stays like that until Yuuri finishes, flicking water in Viktor’s face as he dries himself off and Viktor splutters in the background.

Yuuri laughs at him.

In their kitchen, Yuuri finds enough ingredients to make some (more) pancakes for both him and Viktor.

Yuuri doesn’t talk much in the mornings—or at all—but Viktor does, chattering away about how Chris and his boyfriend are, how Georgi is doing with his most recent break-up, and stuff that Yuuri can’t really catch up on.

He keeps on talking, even throughout breakfast, and Yuuri smiles lovingly at his fiancé as he goes to wash the dishes.

‘Yuuri! I’ll do the dishes!’ Viktor says, enthusiastically.

Yuuri smiles, tiptoeing a bit so he can kiss Viktor’s cheek, ‘Vitya, I know you don’t like it. It only takes a few minutes, okay? Besides, Yurio’s coming over today so you can go set up our pillow fort.’

Viktor’s eyes light up like a kid’s on Christmas, and Yuuri wonders how he’s scored a gorgeous man like him.

Viktor nods excitedly and bounces off.

 

True to his word, Viktor makes a pillow fort big enough for three of them in their living room, having pushed aside all the couches beforehand.

He’s also placed a string of fairy lights inside, and Yuuri personally thinks it’s adorable.

After that, while waiting for Yuri to arrive—he said he’d be there around eleven—Yuuri, with Viktor helping, tries to make Yuri’s favorite pirozhki—it doesn’t turn out quite the same as Yuri’s grandfather, but it’s definitely one of the best he’s made.

Right as he’s finished, the doorbell rings, and Viktor volunteers to get the door.

Yuuri smiles, and thanks him, then winces when there’s a loud yelp as soon as the door opens.

 

[Yuri]

_Come get the door_

[Delivered]

 

‘Yurio,’ Yuuri says, arranging himself so that the laptop rests comfortably on his lap and so that both Viktor and Yuri can see as well. The blanket fort is warm, and the fairy lights twinkle prettily against the warm oranges and reds of the blankets.

‘Don’t call me that,’ Yuri snaps, but it lacks the usual malice that it used to have when they first met.

Viktor’s quietly vibrating in place, and Yuri rolls his eyes.

Their usual movie rules are: no romance (Viktor because he cried and Yuri because apparently got extra mushy around Yuuri), no dog movies (Yuuri cries too much), and no sci-fi (Viktor because he insisted that Yuuri and Yuri picked at the plot too much), Yuri holds the cheddar popcorn and Viktor holds the caramel, because they each don’t like the other’s, and Yuuri between them because he likes both.

Their chosen movie is a horror, and Yuuri, apparently, is the only one immune to the jumpscares.

Twice already, Viktor’s spilled bits of popcorn after screaming.

He’s like a scared puppy, Yuuri thinks affectionately, whereas Yuri, true to his nature, goes entirely silent and has a death grip on Yuuri’s arm. He hisses too, instead of screaming like Viktor.

Yuuri smiles at them, chewing on popcorn, and wonders how it could be so scary—it’s all just CGI—though it could be because one of Yuuri’s friends had dragged him to a movie set for a week and had Yuuri help out.

 _Whatever_ , Yuuri thinks.

It’s nice enough having two of the people he cares about most by his side.

 

Yuri gives him a begrudging ‘this isn’t the worst’ and that’s the best Yuuri thinks he’ll ever get from him at this stage.

The katsudon pirozhki, though Yuuri felt something was slightly off, is wolfed down quickly, Yuri managing to snag two more than Viktor after Yuuri tried to grab it from him to give to the younger.

‘The bedroom is ready, if you want,’ Yuuri offers, smiling a bit when Yuri grumbles out that he’s not staying for the night anyways.

Viktor opens his mouth to say something, but Yuuri claps a hand over it.

He gets the biggest puppy eyes aside from Makkachin aimed at him.

‘No, Vitya,’ he says, trying to ignore him, ‘No, or no kisses for a week.’

Viktor doesn’t need to know that he probably can’t last for more than one day.

Viktor pouts and turns away, and Yuuri turns away to prepare for an anime marathon. Yuri mutters something sounding close to ‘lovesick losers’ after he crawls back into the pillow fort.

He ends up staying the night.

 

‘Stop being so lovey-dovey,’ Yuri demands, ‘Or I will shove my foot—‘

Viktor unlatches himself from around Yuuri, slinking away like a snake and pouting like a baby.

‘Knock it off, Katsudon,’ Yuri demands again, crossing his arms, ‘You have that look on your face again.’

Yuuri immediately colors, fighting the urge to hide his face in his hands as he resolutely thanks whatever god’s up there that he’s still a tiny bit taller than Yuri. ‘Don’t you have a date with your boyfriend?’

It’s Yuri’s turn to turn red, and he turns away. ‘HE’S NOT MY _BOYFRIEND_.’

Viktor chooses the worst moment to say, ‘You two are worse than Yuuri and me,’ very dramatically, draping himself over Yuuri’s shoulder.

Yuuri ducks in time for the shoe to smack into Viktor’s face.

 

 (“YUURI YOU BETRAYED ME!”)

 

One thing Yuuri learns about Viktor is his need for touch.

Not that he didn’t already know that, of course, but aside from Phichit, Yuuri doesn’t really think he knows anyone who likes to initiate hugs that much.

Though Yuuri isn’t really comfortable with hugging people when he first meets them, but this is Viktor Nikiforov, so it’s an exception.

Viktor’s hugs are warm, much like the man himself, and Yuuri always appreciates them, especially because he feels so warm and protected.

(Despite this, Viktor insists on being the little spoon.)

 

Yuuri likes rainy days.

He likes the tranquility, the calm excitement of rain falling down, drops pattering on the windows and fogging them up. On days like this, he loves a hot chocolate, and maybe a book. He likes to stay inside and relax, let his worries and cares fade away into the cold rain outside, even just for a little while.

Since he’s met Viktor, that’s changed.

He preferences haven’t, per say, but he’s enjoyed going out more.

Viktor’s dragged Yuuri out more than a couple of times, and all of these, Yuuri’s found himself laughing without a care in the world, looking at Viktor’s smiling face, so full of ecstasy and love and happiness, though his vision’s blurry from not wearing glasses.

They run and laugh along like little kids—yet to catch a cold—and Yuuri’s equally mesmerized by the way the rain falls on his skin and Viktor acting so much like himself.

On days like those, Yuuri thinks his heart might burst from loving him so much. He’s sure that he’s a mess, hair flat down on his head, clothes soppy and wet and cold, and he yells this over the rain, voice light despite the fact that his clothes definitely are not, and Viktor yells something back.

In an attempt to hear him, Yuuri moves closer, half-gasping, half-laughing as Viktor sweeps him into a tight hug.

‘You’re _always_ beautiful.’

It’s only three words, three simple words, said simply, but the meaning behind them is so much deeper, and Yuuri can’t resist burying his face into Viktor’s neck and hugging him back fiercely.

And Viktor says it, with—with _reverence_ in his voice, as if he’s gazing on galaxies and stars and nebulas, so wondrous, so beautiful, and Yuuri can’t believe he deserves that, that open love and plain adoration and unshakeable trust but he _does_ and that— _that’s_ what makes him fall, fall all over again for the man in front of him—and without a single doubt that there’s nothing better than this; to be held by Viktor and treated as if he’s the most precious thing in the world.

‘I love you,’ Yuuri whispers, and he’s not sure if he’s heard over the pouring of the rain, but he doesn’t care anyways.

Viktor drawing back a tiny bit to kiss him is the only answer he needs.

 

One thing Yuuri learns about Viktor is that he’s a neat freak.

Despite being unruly most of the time, Viktor takes care of his apartment really well, leaving it spotless most of the time.

This happens to be at odds with Yuuri, a broke college student who left his laundry at least a month overdue and prayed that no one noticed the mysterious coffee stain on his jeans, and so old habits die hard—Viktor’s always complaining that Yuuri needs to be more organized.

‘Vitya,’ Yuuri protests, refusing to get up off the couch, ‘it’s just a coat!’

Viktor’s holding up the coat in question, pointing at Yuuri with an accusatory look. ‘You need to clean up after yourself!’

‘I know, Viktor,’ Yuuri snaps. He’s not usually one to, but today’s training had left him winded and crabby because he hadn’t got his jump correct and Yakov had forced him to go home anyways.

‘Then do it,’ Viktor retorts.

Yuuri closes his eyes, trying to control his temper, ‘I will, okay? Just—I’m tired.’

There’s a silence, and Yuuri thinks maybe Viktor’s left, maybe now he’s just realized that Yuuri’s not good enough for him, and he pulls himself into a sitting position, head hidden behind his knees.

Then the couch dips beside him, and Yuuri turns his head just in time to see Viktor wrapping an arm around him, and Yuuri automatically leans into the touch, melting against Viktor’s one-armed embrace.

They stay like that for a few minutes, and, during that time, Yuuri can feel his frustrations melting out, and he snuggles closer into Viktor’s side.

‘Sorry,’ he mumbles after a few minutes, ‘I was frustrated.’

Viktor pats the top of his head, and Yuuri doesn’t have to look up to see that his eyes have softened when he says, ‘I know you didn’t get a perfect jump today, but you will later, okay? Just practice a bit more. You can do it.’

Yuuri nods, suddenly sleepy.

Viktor chuckles. ‘But try to take care of the house more often too, okay?’

Yuuri’s too tired to say anything, but he smiles anyways.

 

Yuuri has seen this scenario multiple times on the internet.

He will _not_ screw this up. He will not screw up.

He’s sure his heart is pounding, and he’s thankful that Viktor’s hugging him from behind so that he can’t see the fierce blush on Yuuri’s cheeks.

A few minutes ago, Viktor had walked down the stairs, and wrapped his arms around Yuuri, who had been reading a book at the dining table, and asked, ‘How’s the most beautiful person in the world doing?’ with a kiss to his cheek.

‘I don’t know,’ Yuuri says, as smoothly as he can, ‘How are you?’

Viktor chokes. He chokes on apparently nothing, and when Yuuri turns around a few seconds later, he’s lying on the floor, over-dramatically holding a hand over his heart.

‘...did I kill you?’ Yuuri says with a smile.

Viktor lets out a weak gurgle.

 

Usually, Viktor is the one with the spontaneous decisions, for instance jumping on a flight to Japan to see Yuuri, but this time it’s Yuuri that shows up driving an old but mostly functioning truck after a day off.

‘Yuuri?’ Viktor sounds confused, but excited—it’s how he usually is, anyways.

‘Hey,’ Yuuri greets, getting up on his tiptoes to kiss Viktor softly—he feels Viktor smile against his lips—and after he pulls back, says, ‘Can you grab some blankets?’

Viktor nods and disappears, and Yuuri goes into their bedroom to get pillows and a large plushie that he knows Viktor likes but hasn’t admitted yet.

‘Are we leaving Makkachin?’ Viktor asks as they’re loading the blankets onto the truck—Yuuri had made sure it was clean enough—and Yuuri freezes.

Crap. He forgot about her.

And feels like kicking himself for that.

‘We’ll take her too,’ Yuuri decides, reasoning that Makkachin still needs to see them or she’ll get sad.

Viktor nods and goes to get her while Yuuri fetches her leash—not that he thinks they’re going to need it—and when Viktor comes out, Yuuri’s already at the driver’s seat.

‘Not letting me drive?’ Viktor asks jokingly, letting Makkachin stay in between them.

‘You know what happened last time,’ Yuuri says sternly, starting the car after making sure everything’s set.

Viktor simply laughs, settling down as Yuuri drives.

‘Here,’ Yuuri says after a few seconds, handing Viktor his phone. ‘You can open some music.’

Viktor nods, and scrolls through, taking time to read each single thing. Yuuri doesn’t know if he finds it endearing or funny.

Finally, Viktor says, ‘You have a playlist for us?’

Yuuri wants to pull over and bury his face in his hands. Instead, he’s thankful that it’s dark out and his whole blush can’t be seen. When he refuses to reply, Viktor laughs, and opens the first song on the list.

A few guitar notes float out, and though the quality of the music isn’t what Yuuri’s used to, he bears with it.

In time, he’s humming along with the lyrics.

_So you can keep me_

_Inside the pocket of your ripped jeans_

_Holding me closer till our eyes meet_

_I won’t ever let you go_

_Wait for me to come home_

 

Viktor has no such qualms, and sings along to every single lyric, and Yuuri laughs—the way he sings isn’t that funny, but the way he’s petting Makkachin definitely is.

‘Vitya,’ Yuuri says, ‘Why are you pretending I’m Makkachin? Have you moved on so quickly from me?’

The way Viktor gasps in outrage is very overdramatic, and he almost crushes his dog in an attempt to lean over and hug Yuuri.

‘Stop, Vitya,’ Yuuri protests, but he’s also laughing, ‘You’re going to make me crash!’

Viktor laughs, joyfully, and Yuuri wonders for a second if his eyes are glowing from happiness.

They don’t say anything more, though laugh at each other when trying—and failing—to sing duets.

 

_I met you in the dark_

_You lit me up_

_You made me feel as though I was enough_

_We danced the night away_

_We drank too much_

 

Yuuri sings the first part, eyes on the road but mouth wide open in a grin when Makkachin settles against his side.

 

_I held your hair back when you’re throwing up_

_And you looked over your shoulder_

_For a minute I was stone-cold sober_

_I held you closer to my chest_

 

Viktor sings the next part, simultaneously trying to get Makkachin to come back to him.

After the chorus, Viktor breaks formation to say, ‘Yuuri! This is our song!’

‘I wasn’t aware we had a song,’ Yuuri teases.

‘Then this is our song,’ Viktor demands, and Yuuri gives in, laughing with him.

 

An hour later, Yuuri reaches his destination. Surprisingly, Viktor had stayed not asking where they were going for their entire ride, and Yuuri thinks that’s kind of an achievement for him.

‘Where are we?’ Viktor curiously asks when they finally stop, music forgotten and still playing on the dashboard. Makkachin snores quietly.

‘I don’t know,’ Yuuri says, and gets out.

Viktor follows from the other side, and Yuuri rolls his eyes before reaching inside and carrying a still-sleeping Makkachin out.

She’s heavy, that’s for sure, as Yuuri struggles to get her onto the back of the truck, which is laid out with blankets and pillows.

Gesturing for Viktor to climb in, Yuuri settles himself into the blankets, taking a spare one and throwing it over Viktor and himself—and Makkachin in the middle—before snuggling closer to the poodle.

‘Is this what you brought me out to see?’ Viktor whispers, as if speaking too loud will break the calm atmosphere.

Yuuri nods, gaze transfixed on the sky full of stars. Out here in the country, the stars are way more visible, and Yuuri thinks it’s mesmerizing, like Viktor’s eyes when he’s especially excited about something.

‘Hey,’ Viktor says suddenly, ‘Do you know any constellations?’

Yuuri shakes his head, then voices a negative when he realizes that Viktor’s probably not looking at him.

‘Well,’ Viktor starts, voice practically sparkling, lifting a hand to point at the sky, ‘There’s Sagittarius.’

Then he moves, pointing at a different star, ‘And that’s Capricorn.’

‘Me and you.’

Viktor chuckles, ‘But of course, Yuuri!’

With that, Viktor tells him about the stars, though Yuuri’s sure he’s more enchanted by the sound of Viktor’s voice than the myths and legends Viktor’s got memorized in his head.

They don’t know how much time passes with Viktor excitedly babbling, but Yuuri enjoys every second of it—coming out here was definitely a good decision, he thinks.

‘I read somewhere,’ Yuuri says, waiting until Viktor’s finished his latest story, ‘that we’re all made of stardust—‘

‘Which is made in the cores of dying stars!’ Viktor interrupts, ‘And that makes every one of us special, because you can’t find it anywhere else!’

Yuuri smiles, and Viktor has the gall to look sheepish after cutting him off.

Makkachin, who’s been quiet until this moment, save for some snores and random wriggling around, stirs, raising her head to blink sleepily at Yuuri.

‘Awww,’ Yuuri coos, rubbing her head while scratching her chin. ‘You wanna go, girl?’

Before Viktor can complain about the loss of heat, Yuuri hops out of the truck, letting Makkachin run about and do her business when Viktor hugs him from the back. His warmth is more comforting than Yuuri’d like to admit.

They look at Makkachin running about, looking back occasionally to see that they’re still there. The wind is chilly, but not enough that they need more than one layer of clothing.

Yuuri tilts his head back to gaze at the stars, feeling Viktor follow his lead behind him.

Suddenly, there’s a bright light, and then there’s a falling star.

‘Make a wish!’ Viktor says excitedly, and Yuuri doesn’t have to look back to see that his eyes are sparkling.

Yuuri closes his eyes.

 _I wish_ , he stops for a moment, _I could be with Viktor forever._

The stars twinkle at him.

 

After Makkachin’s decided that she’s had sufficient running about, Viktor and Yuuri climb back onto the truck, Viktor making sure they’re both tucked in.

And then they’re quiet, and Yuuri almost falls asleep, on the verge of just closing his eyes and drifting off, when Viktor says something beside him.

‘Huh?’

Viktor clears his throat. ‘I love you.’

And that’s it. There’s no fanfare, there’re no explosions, there are no fireworks, just a simple declaration of love. And Yuuri thinks that’s the best.

‘Love you too,’ Yuuri mumbles, too sleepy for coherence, but Viktor squeals anyways, reaching across to hug both Yuuri and Makkachin.

‘I told you about my dog, right?’

The sudden change of topic is jarring, but Yuuri doesn’t think he can take more snappiness or he’s going to spontaneously combust from embarrassment.

He can feel Viktor’s curious eyes on him as he says, ‘You mentioned it once or twice. Why?’

Ignoring that question, Yuuri says, ‘He was called Vicchan. I named him after you when you got Makkachin.’

There’s a silence, and Yuuri resolutely refuses to look at Viktor.

‘Yuuri,’ Viktor says softly, voice rising in pitch as he says, ‘That was so cute!’

Yuuri groans and tries to go back to sleep.

Surprisingly, he manages to tune Viktor out.

 

Viktor lets Yuuri rest for a couple of hours, apparently decides that it’s enough, and wakes him up, whining about being bored.

Yuuri wonders why he’s so attracted to this adorable man—and then Viktor gives him heart eyes and that heart-shaped grin, and Yuuri thinks faintly, _Yeah, that’s it._

Viktor insists that it’s time to go back, and makes him get up to drive. Yuuri yawns, planting a kiss on Viktor’s cheek before climbing out of the warm blankets, trusting that Viktor will bring Makkachin to the front.

On the way back, Viktor opens music that he knows will keep Yuuri awake.

 

(They’re both late for practice that day.)

 

These are the days when Yuuri’s more down. When he’s not confident enough about himself, when he doubts too much and ends up hurting himself along the way.

There used to be Mari, who helped him with sharp but kind words, building him up piece by piece again.

There used to be Phichit, who treated him ice-cream and cried together with him sometimes, others encouraging him like there’s no tomorrow—and almost always succeeded.

And now there’s Viktor.

Viktor’s different.

He doesn’t try to dispel the fear. He doesn’t try to chase it away. He lays out the facts, bold and clear—subtlety has never been his strong suit, after all—and he takes Yuuri’s trembling hands in his own, saying that he believes in Yuuri.

And when Yuuri mumbles, barely distinguishable, void of feeling that he doesn’t believe in himself, Viktor simply says, ‘Then I’ll believe enough for both of us.’

And suddenly, it’s not as bad anymore.

 

‘Viktor,’ Yuuri starts slowly. ‘What is this?’

The subject is question is looking like he’s smiling, panicking, trying to figure out how to explain this to Yuuri, _and_ how to clean it up at the same time, but all that comes out is a garbled cross between a quiet scream and an apologetic whine.

Their bathroom is flooded.

And this probably wouldn’t be out of the ordinary, except that Viktor’s holding a spatula in one hand and a rubber duck in the other. While wearing the most hideous pair of shorts Yuuri has seen on him. And that’s a feat, considering Viktor can make literally anything look good on him.

He’s getting sidetracked.

‘Viktor?’

‘Uh, Yuuri!’ Viktor exclaims, eyes darting around like a cover story will come to him any second, then slumping his shoulders when nothing does. ‘Nothing’s wrong?’

Yuuri crosses his arms.

Viktor sighs in defeat, and then he sighs. ‘I was going to take a bath, but I left the water on. And then when I came in I knocked the shampoo into the bathtub.’

‘And,’ Yuuri stops to take a breath, ‘Why are you holding a spatula?’

‘Um,’ Viktor gulps, voice growing tinier with each word, ‘the duck was stuck in the corner, and I couldn’t get it out so IusedaspatulaI’msorrypleasedon’tkillme.’

There’s a long silence, during which Viktor seems to wilt more under Yuuri’s stare.

‘Vitya,’ Yuuri finally sighs out, pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘I love you, but please don’t let this happen ever again.’

Viktor immediately springs up, and sweeps Yuuri into a hug.

 

(‘Viktor, please don’t get my clothes wet again.’)

 

Yuuri is a person of routine, mostly. Viktor wakes him up at six and then they get ready, Viktor taking forever to style his hair and Yuuri throwing on his practice clothes.

They go to the rink to practice, where Yakov yells at Viktor and Yuri, and speaks nicely to Yuuri, because, apparently, Yakov says, ‘you’re the only person who’ll do what I say, it’s a nice break from everyone else’ while gesturing to Viktor hollering, Yuri screaming, Georgi falling dramatically and Mika taking videos.

Then they get a light lunch, something Yakov approves of, and go back to training, and Yuuri practices his step sequences or sometimes his spins. Jumps and routines he does in the morning.

When practice ends, it’s close to dinner, and sometimes Viktor leaves early because Yuuri wants to practice more—on those occasions, Yakov ends up kicking both Yuuri and Yuri out.

If they have time, they watch a movie after dinner, letting themselves relax after a day of hard work.

It’s good, Yuuri thinks, snuggling further into Viktor’s side, and it’s definitely something he could get used to.

 

‘Yuuuuuuuri,’ there’s a long, drawn-out whine from downstairs, and Yuuri almost trips and falls face first onto the floor in his haste to grab his glasses and rush downstairs.

Maybe waking up to burnt pancakes isn’t so bad after all.

**Author's Note:**

> FUCK I THINK IM WAY TOO LATE WITH THIS I APOLOGIZE


End file.
